


Snapshot

by glyphsbowtie



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, Photography, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 02:24:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15742221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glyphsbowtie/pseuds/glyphsbowtie
Summary: Wade decides to help out Spidey's friend Peter Parker by buying sexy photos of his beloved Spidey from him.There's no possible way this plan could go wrong.None.





	Snapshot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Infinity456](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infinity456/gifts).



> Based on a prompt from foxtrot on the Isn't It Bromantic? Discord server- full prompt in the end notes.
> 
> I may have written two responses to this. This one is a little fluffier than the other one, which is called Undeveloped Negatives, and is the same basic premise but a bit darker. I couldn't decide which one I liked more, so you can have both.

Wade Wilson could look at Spider-Man all day. The guy is perfect, a small lithe body, a tight little ass, slender fingers… He even smells good, as Wade has discovered on the few occasions they've teamed up and he's ended up pressed against Spidey, or thrown him towards a target, or even (on one memorable night) carried him out of a burning building after he sprained his ankle. He smells of soap, coffee and something sweet, like candy, something which Wade has added to his ongoing list of evidence that Spidey is younger than he is.

Not like  _ weirdly _ young. Just… not as old as Wade. Wade is almost thirty four. He knows that Spidey is old enough to drink, because in the rare moments the guy opens up to Wade, he references it. He's even joked about paying his bills. So he must be at least twenty one.

Wade doesn't know very much about his charming little friend. He's funny, flexible, clever… and currently sitting on the edge of a rooftop watching the sunrise.

[Look at his ass. Sinful.]

“I know you're behind me, Wade,” Spidey sighs.

He turns around, looking at Wade over his shoulder. As always, Wade starts to wonder what he looks like beneath that mask.

{Titanic era Leonardo DiCaprio?}

Wade tries to picture this and laughs. He takes a step forward. “How did you know it was me? I'm guessing Daredevil hasn't taught you his creepy heartbeat hearing tricks.”

“Partly because you rattle when you walk. Why have you got so many guns? And partly because it's always you.” Spidey sounds amused, but tired.

Wade watches him, staring hungrily at him as he turns away from Wade, back to the pink streaks in the sky.

“I'm glad the heartbeat thing is still a mystery to you. If you could hear how mine races with arousal every time I get near you, you'd never talk to me again,” Wade says lightly. He often does this: flirts obnoxiously with Peter to hide the fact he really, really likes the guy.

“Come sit down and stop staring at me like a creep,” Spidey offers, ignoring Wade's attempts to get a reaction.

Wade likes this about Spidey most of all. Not only is the guy sex on legs, but he tolerates Deadpool's presence. He laughs at Wade's jokes and listens  to his ramblings. Is it any wonder Wade is pretty much in love with the guy?

[Pretty much? Whatever, buddy.]

“I'd love to,” Wade says, heading over and sitting down on the ledge with Spidey- not too close, for fear that he won't be able to stop himself reaching over and touching him. He looks over at Spider-Man, now seeing him in profile. It's hard to tell, but Wade is getting the distinct impression that there's something up with his little pal: his shoulders are hunched up. “Everything… good?” he asks, gently.

Spider-Man looks at him. “Everything's fine, Wade,” he says, in a tone that makes it very clear that everything is not fine, and that he doesn't wish to discuss it. “Were you looking for me for something specific or is it just coincidence we're on the same rooftop?”

“I wanted to ask you about something, actually,” Wade says, honestly. Spidey is still looking at him, his head slightly cocked in a curious way. Wade loves him for this, the way he genuinely cares about what the mercenary has to say. “I was looking for pictures of you last night-”

Spidey holds a hand up. “Why?” he asks.

{Do  _ not _ tell him.}

“Just my ongoing Spidey shrine,” Wade says.

[That was more creepy than the actual truth.]

“You're ridiculous,” Spidey laughs.

“Anyway, I was on Instagram and I came across this guy with an account full of photos of you. What do you know about him? He's called Peter Parker.”

Wade is genuinely concerned that Peter Parker has been taking photographs of Spider-Man without his permission; he's got some really intimate shots, close-ups of Spidey in costume, sitting on the edges of buildings and, in Wade's favourite, lying on his side in an alleyway. Part of him wants to know if he needs to go stab this Peter Parker for stalking Spidey, and the other part wants his address to see if he's got any better shots. But Spidey has reacted very strangely to his question; he's gone stiff, and looked away from Wade.

“Webs?” Wade prompts.

“Peter Parker is…” Spider-Man begins, hesitantly.

“Did he take those photos without your permission? Do I need to go talk to him?”

Spider-Man laughs, but there's no humour in it. “No, Wade. I let him take photos of me. He has loads of them. He sells them to the Bugle and runs that Instagram account.”

_ He has loads of them. _ That's an interesting thought.

“Why do you let him?” Wade asks.

Spidey snorts. “He needs the money.”

* * *

It isn't hard to find Peter Parker. Wade gets home, showers and pulls on some sweatpants before sitting at his laptop and typing the guy's name into Facebook. There are a few results, but  _ his _ Peter Parker must be the guy with the obnoxious photographer selfie as his profile picture: his face is obscured by an enormous retro camera, and messy brown hair sticks up around it.

Wade clicks onto his profile to see that Peter is a student at Empire State University, apparently studying science of some description. There are no other photographs of him, suggesting to Wade that he suffers from an all-too-familiar dislike of his own face.

Wade calls the university students’ union. The girl who answers is called Jan and she sounds like she's bored of her own existence.

“Hey, my name is Wade Wilson. I'm meant to be coming up from out of state to drop off some samples for Peter Parker, one of your science students.”

“He's probably in the lab,” Jan says, and he hears gum pop.

“He specifically asked for these samples to be brought to his home.” Wade lowers his voice in a conspiratorial fashion. “Between you and I, Jan, I'm not entirely sure he'd want anyone in authority to see these particular chemicals.”

Jan sighs. “Right. So why are you calling me?”

“I've lost his address,” Wade sighs.

“Fine,” Jan says, conceding with no real persuasion at all. Wade's glad that she's not responsible for keeping  _ his _ data secure. He hears her tapping on a keyboard, and then she gives him Parker's address.

He makes his way over a couple of hours later. He's changed back into his usual red and black, his face masked. Poor Parker is used to dealing with lovely-looking guys like Spider-Man. He doesn't need to witness the horror of Wade's face. Not that Wade is really planning on seeing the guy, but if he can't find any photos in the apartment, he's going to have to stay to ask for some. He's got his katanas and a gun out of habit, but a science student who takes photos in his spare time is hardly worth the effort.

It's late afternoon, and Parker will be in the lab. Wade enters the tall, narrow dorm building without being stopped by anyone. He doesn't even come across anyone. They're all in class. Peter lives three stories up, and Wade takes the stairs two at a time.

His front door is unlocked, which Wade thinks is monumentally stupid, but when he steps inside he sees that the lock is broken. The whole place is shitty, a smeared window open to let in some fresh air. It smells stale, and it's tiny; there's one room which seems to be his bedroom, kitchen, lounge and office, and he can see the bathroom through the only other door.

He closes the door behind him and crosses to Parker's desk. There's a pile of papers on it, and he starts to root through it, looking for any photographs. But there aren't any. He opens the top drawer of the desk to discover four notebooks filled with notes about biology.

[Where would this kid be hiding his photographs of Spidey? There's a really obvious place.]

Wade follows his instincts to the bedside table, opening up the top drawer and wondering what delights he'll uncover. For a college student, this guy is tame: he pulls out a mostly-full bottle of lube and an unopened box of condoms.

“What the  _ fuck?” _

He turns, lube and condoms still in his hands, to see a young man standing in the doorway. Wade's first thought about him is that he's tiny; his baggy jumper makes him look even smaller. He has a round, smooth face and brown eyes. He's not unpleasant to look at it, but he's unremarkable.

“You know, don't you?” the man says, sighing, one hand reaching up to tug in frustration at his messy hair.

“You're Peter Parker?”

Parker nods sadly. “Look- you can't tell anyone,” he says, and there's a pleading note in his voice. His eyes are very round and he bites his bottom lip. All at once, Wade changes his mind about the guy being unremarkable. He's pretty.

“Why would I have to tell anyone?” Wade asks. “You keep publishing them in the Bugle.” He feels a little confused, and then it occurs to him that perhaps Parker means something else. “Unless you mean you want me to not tell anyone that you're apparently incapable of getting laid, in which case I also don't have to, as that jumper is doing a good enough job.”

Parker blinks, then looks down at his jumper and tugs it self-consciously. “You're not here because of Spider-Man?”

“Well, I'm not here to relieve you of your crippling virginity,” Wade says lightly, flipping the lubricant before popping it back into the drawer. He eyes the nervous-looking young man again. He's no model, but in a nice way; he's got kind eyes and a pleasing face. “Unless you'd like me to, in which case I'm sure I can work myself up to it.”

Peter Parker doesn't say anything for a moment, and then he laughs. He has a lovely laugh, and dimples by his mouth when he smiles. “I'm fine, thanks,” he says. “Why are you going through my drawers?”

“We have a mutual acquaintance. Well, in my case he's more like a best friend.”

Peter laughs again. “You're not going to tell me that Spider-Man is your best friend.”

Wade weighs this up. “Best friend and love of my life,” he tells the small man.

The smile disappears. A far more serious expression takes its place. “Why are you here?” He reaches up to rub the back of his neck in an awkward fashion, and there's something very familiar about that motion.

“Have we met?” Wade asks, taking a step towards Peter.

“Categorically not,” Peter replies.

[Harsh.]

“Well, let's rectify that,” Wade says, striding over to him and offering his hand. “I'm Wade Wilson. People call me Deadpool.”

Peter stands before him, looking up at him with a strange expression. He's really very short compared to Wade, but there's something powerful in the way his small body moves; his fingers, when he wraps them around Wade's and shakes, are surprisingly strong. “Peter Parker.”

“Has anyone ever told you you're very cute, Peter Parker?” Wade asks before he can stop himself.

Peter snorts. “Not in this context. What do you want, Wade?”

“You take photographs of my sticky pal Spider-Man. I want you to get me more… exclusive photographs.” That sounded way less creepy in his head.

“Um, why would I give you those?” Peter asks, going scarlet.

“So you  _ can _ get me more interesting shots?” Wade asks, curiously. What is the nature of Webhead’s relationship with this adorable little nerd?

“Why would I want to?”

“I'll pay you. You can check with him if you like, but he seemed to want you to get more money and after seeing this hovel I can see why,” Wade says brightly.

Peter sighs. Then he laughs. “Were you going through my drawers looking for photographs, Wade? You do realise they're all digital, right?”

Wade feels a strange urge to reach out and get physical with this guy; not in a murderous way, but in a flirtatious, playful way. Those bright brown eyes sparkle up at him. But that would be inappropriate.

Wouldn't it?

Before he can decide, Peter shrugs. “Fine. I need the money.”

* * *

Peter sends him the first photograph that evening. The email pings loudly on his phone, awakening him from the deep slumber he fell into when he got home.

The message in the email is brief:  _ Please never tell me what you want this for. _

Wade snorts. Attached is a photograph of Spider-Man. He's on a rooftop, masked face turned away from the camera. His arms and collarbones are naked, the familiar spandex suit pushed down, revealing an awful lot of creamy skin. Spidey has a mole low on his throat.

Wade swallows. The guy is perfection. He feels the usual stirrings on arousal, but also a strange desire to run his fingers gently across those delicate collarbones.

He emails Peter back:  _ How do you want your money? I can just drop it off at your place? _

The response is terse:  _ Sure. It's not like I can keep you out anyway. _

* * *

Wade takes the money over the next morning in an envelope. He feels rather proud of himself, in a weird way. He's helping Spidey’s little friend. He wonders if Webs knows about their strange arrangement.

He gets to the front door of Peter Parker's apartment and, feeling very heroic this morning, knocks on the door before entering.

There is a loud clatter from inside, then the door swings open to reveal Peter Parker, resplendent in a grey plaid shirt and dark jeans, his little feet bare. The scent of shower gel and coffee drifts towards Wade. Peter is wearing a terrified expression, similar to the one he first wore when they met yesterday, and Wade wonders if it might be because of his swords and guns. He fingers one gun thoughtfully.

{Bet nobody looks at Spider-Man like he might impale them before breakfast.}

He realises too late that moving his hand towards a gun was the worst way to make young Parker feel less nervous. Peter has dropped lower, his eyes narrowed and his knees loose. It's a defensive position, one Wade vaguely knows from somewhere.

“Hey!” Wade says gently, raising his hands. “I just thought I'd drop by to give you the money.”

Peter visibly relaxes. “Oh, sure. Come on in.”

And just like that, Wade falls a bit for Peter Parker, too. Because, like Spidey, the guy seems absolutely happy to have him around. Wade had expected just to give him the money and leave, but here's Peter, standing to one side and allowing him inside.

Wade steps inside again, and Peter closes the door behind them, gesturing to the sofa in a casual fashion. Wade sits down, feeling strangely large on the small sofa, and watches Peter stirring instant coffee into hot water.

“Do you want one?” Peter asks.

Wade  _ does _ want one, but he's worried about taking his mask off in front of this adorable little vision. So he shakes his head. Peter brings his own mug over, sitting down beside him.

“Was the… photo okay?” Peter asks, in a strange tone, staring intently into his coffee. His small, hard body is pressed against Wade's by necessity.

Wade isn't sure there's a polite way to tell one guy he's starting to really want to bone that he spent the previous evening touching himself and looking at a photograph of the other guy he really wants to bone. “It was gorgeous,” he says. “Really good camera work, really captured the lighting well…”

“Oh God,” Peter sighs, covering his face with one hand, “I know exactly what you did with it.”

Wade laughs, but something very interesting is happening to Parker: a beautiful crimson blush is sliding gracefully across his cheeks, dipping down and disappearing beneath his shirt collar. He is biting his lip.

{He's turned on.}

And the funny thing is that Peter Parker is  _ obviously _ a little turned on. Wade almost reaches out for him, but before he can, Parker leaps up and swallows a mouthful of coffee.

“I know we didn't agree on a price,” Peter says, not looking at Wade. “So I'll just take whatever you think is fair, as well as your word nobody else gets to see the photos- ever.”

Wade rather thinks that goes without saying. He wouldn't want anyone else to see Spidey like that; he's not sure if he loves or hates the idea of this pretty little photographer seeing Spidey in that way. He takes out two hundred dollars in cash and stands up, going to Peter and pressing it into his hand. There's a strange moment when their fingers meet, and Peter looks up at him with wide eyes. Wade wants to kiss him.

“Thanks for coming by,” Peter says, and the words are strangled. “I'll send you another photo later.”

* * *

The following three nights are brightened by Peter's photographs. He sends one a night, not bothering with a message, and they are becoming better and better. The first one is a picture of Spider-Man hanging upside off a building, hands against the wall and the spandex-covered curve of his ass the focal point. The second one is of Spidey’s crotch, his gloved fingers cradling the obvious bulge. The third is the best of all: Spidey is fully covered but has apparently webbed himself to a wall, his wrists stuck. It's hot as fuck.

What is bothering Wade (in addition to the constant pain in his wrist) is the fact that Peter isn't sending messages with his photographs. Wade always replies to the photographs and has yet to receive a response, but, without fail, the next photograph arrives the following night.

It occurs to him that perhaps Peter is attracted to him (something which is entirely possible given that the poor guy has yet to see his face) but doesn't want to get involved with him given his obvious obsession with their sticky shared acquaintance. There's also the possibility that Parker has some sort of relationship with Spidey; this would certainly explain how he gets these extremely intimate photos.

Wade decides to pay a visit to his nerdy little pal. After all, he needs to drop off money. So he heads over there, fully equipped out of habit and feeling oddly nervous as he knocks on Peter's door.

Peter opens the door. He's wearing an oversized hoodie, sweatpants and- damn it all- glasses.

{He is literally perfect.}

And he is. His hair sticks up wildly around his face and he's holding a block of ramen noodles in one hand.

“I wasn't expecting you,” he says, and he certainly doesn't sound disappointed to see Wade, “but I suppose I should have been. Come in.”

Wade follows him inside, perching on the edge of the kitchen counter as Peter adds the noodles to some boiling water. “I've got your money, but you need to answer a question for me before I give you it.”

Peter freezes, looking over at Wade with those wide, terrified eyes. And Wade realises in that moment just why the kid looks like that so often around him.

He's got something to hide.

“Nothing bad,” Wade clarifies, overcome by a need to comfort the little nerd. “I just wanted to ask why you haven't replied to my messages.”

Peter exhales. He bites his lip again, and Wade feels a rush of blood to his dick. “I just… I was feeling…”

[He was feeling horny and was worried he'd end up having email sex with Deadpool, the adorable little minx.]

Wade smiles beneath his mask. “Did you think those photos of Spidey were hot?” He's off the counter now, stalking over to Peter, who takes a step backwards and collides with the other counter. Wade stands over him and, very deliberately, places one hand on the counter on each side of Peter, trapping him. He's very prepared for Peter to reject him, and will move immediately when it happens, but the little bespectacled guy is biting his lip harder and looking up at Wade with blown pupils.

“No!” he says breathily. “Just… I found it hot that you found it hot.”

“Naughty,” Wade says, approvingly.

Peter swallows. His Adam's apple bobs up and down, and Wade watches the creamy skin at his throat with interest.

“I'm going to take my mask off,” he says, and he doesn't know what makes him do it. “I'm warning you, what's beneath here isn't pretty and you're not going to like it.”

“I think I might surprise you,” Peter says.

Wade pulls it off, placing it on the counter carefully before looking back at Peter. He looks absolutely unfazed, and Wade has the thought he had the first time he came over here: that this guy must have already met him. Peter's fingers come up to brush across Wade's cheek.

“You're so hot, Wade,” Peter tells him, and the words are thick with arousal and something gentler.

Wade kisses him, bending to press his lips against Peter's, who responds with an enthusiastic moan, wrapping his arms around Wade's throat and pressing his body flush against Wade's. Beneath the baggy clothing, Peter really is very sinewy and strong, and his muscles ripple pleasantly beneath Wade's hands as he drags his hands down Peter's body, cupping his ass in both hands before lifting him and placing him on the edge of the counter. Their mouths work desperately against each other, their tongues battling for dominance.

Wade trails his mouth down Peter's jaw, down that creamy, soft throat, and he decides he wants more. He pulls the hoodie off Peter with ease. As he does so, he breathes in a cripplingly familiar scent: shower gel, coffee and candy. There is a small mole at the bottom of Peter's throat.

Peter Parker is Spider-Man.

Wade considers asking him outright, but he can't bring himself to ruin this moment. Spidey, the guy Wade has adored for a ridiculously long time, is topless and aroused in his arms, breathing heavily as Wade trails his tongue across the mole. He just told Wade that he thinks he's hot.

He's been sending Wade increasingly sexy photographs of himself and apparently finding that highly erotic.

Wade can't ruin this just yet. And he needs to be sure.

He kisses down Peter's stomach, tonguing the edge of his trousers, then pulling them off, too, leaving Peter naked and exposed on the kitchen counter. He's glorious. He's small and muscular, his body tight and covered in incredibly soft skin. His cock is hard and velvety when Wade brushes his gloved fingers against it, and Peter lets out a strangled moan when Wade swallows his entire length into his mouth.

Peter tastes gorgeous, and his narrow hips buck desperately as Wade sucks at him, taking him right down to the base as he savours this moment. Spider-Man is a naked, gorgeous man currently letting Wade give him a blow-job in his kitchen.

Peter isn't going to last long. His moans are constant and desperate, and his body tenses and shivers as he grows closer to orgasm.

“Wade-!” he cries out.

He finishes in Wade's mouth, wave after wave of thick, hot cum pumping down Wade's throat.

Wade swallows it, drawing back and smoothing Peter's hair back. Peter is flushed, his eyes wide and wild, apparently unaware of the fact his ramen is boiling over. Wade reaches over and turns the hob off.

“You okay?” he asks Peter.

Peter nods. He's reaching for Wade's own throbbing erection, but Wade has decided he wants to have more fun with this dynamic, and gently pushes Peter's hands away.

“Consider it payment for those photographs,” he says. “An additional payment. And if you can get me  _ better _ photographs, I'll give you better payments.”

Peter looks vaguely concerned, but nods again. Wade smiles, drawing back and reaching for his mask.

* * *

{That guy is definitely Spidey.}

[Would Spidey even want Wade Wilson to masturbate to his photographs then get him off in his own kitchen?]

Apparently. Wade is furiously horny by the time he gets home, and he strips off before collapsing on his bed and touching himself, imagining Peter's small, slender hands around his cock, imagining them clad in Spider-Man’s gloves. He looks at the photograph Peter sent him of Spider-Man webbed to the wall, imagining trailing his fingers down that vulnerable little body until Spidey was begging…

He finishes, hot and hard, his body trembling.

He falls asleep for a while but wakes up thinking of Peter. A check of his phone reveals that Peter has sent him another photo.

[Oh my.]

It's of Spider-Man's crotch, the fabric of his suit pushed back to reveal the hard, firm erection.

The same hard, firm erection Wade had his mouth around earlier.

Peter Parker  _ wants  _ Wade to know that he's Spider-Man.

Wade clicks his tongue thoughtfully, wondering how to proceed, one hand drifting down to touch himself again. He types a reply with his other hand:  _ I want to see all of that hot little body. _

Moments later, another photograph appears, this time of Peter from his neck to his dick. It's the same lovely body Wade had his hands all over before. The mole is there, and some of Peter's messy brown hair is visible at the top of the shot. He's even lying on the blanket Wade has seen on Peter Parker's bed.

[There's only one thing to do.]

Wade is dressed and out the door in less than three minutes, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, his arousal throbbing uncomfortably.

Thankfully, the journey is quick, and he's bursting through Peter's front door about ten minutes later.

Peter looks shocked, the blanket pulled up to his chin as he stares at Wade from bed.

“Um, hey?” he says, his eyes wide.

Wade strides over to him, waving his phone with the photograph in Peter's face. “This is  _ you,  _ you little asshole,” he says. “This is your hair and your blanket!” He pulls the blanket down, revealing that delicious mole. “This is your mole! You're Spider-Man.”

Peter looks up him, breathing hard. Then he laughs. “I wondered when you'd figure it out.”

Wade is confused. “You did want me to find out, then?”

Peter reaches for him, pulling him down onto the bed so that they are pressed together. “Yeah. I've wanted to tell you for a few months. I was just scared you wouldn't like…” He gestures at his face. “I'm not exactly-”

“You are gorgeous, Webs,” Wade tells him firmly, fingering the mole at Peter's throat.

“Anyway, then you broke in and I thought you'd figured it out. But you just wanted photos of me, you creep. And…” Peter's blushing now. “And I found it sort of hot that you thought I was hot. And I wanted to tell you it was me but I just thought I'd let you figure it out.”

Wade kisses him, softly, his mouth brushing softly against Peter's. “So… you like me?” he asks.

[Smooth.]

“I adore you, asshole,” Peter says, pulling Wade's shirt off. “I wasn't sure… you're always flirting with me and joking about being in love with me and stuff, but I didn't know if you meant it. And, like I say, I was worried you wouldn't find the idea of Peter Parker, broke college student, as sexy as the idea of Spider-Man.”

“ _ All  _ of you is sexy,” Wade says. “And I do love you. No joking. I think you're the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

Peter blinks. “Good,” he says, in a choked voice. His eyes are wet.

Wade kisses his forehead. “Can we fuck now? I’m totally up for doing emotional stuff with you all night, but if I can’t touch you, I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Lose it more, you mean?” Peter laughs, smiling, those beautiful dimples blooming delightfully on his flushed cheeks.

Wade pulls the blanket all the way down and discovers that Peter’s legs are encased in his Spider-Man suit; he’s even wearing his boots. Wade laughs. “Oh my God, baby.”

“I know. I look ridiculous,” Peter says.

Wade fingers the edges of the spandex. “You look  _ hot as fuck.”  _ He kisses the soft skin at Peter’s navel, delighting in the goosebumps that erupt there, trailing down his stomach to his hard cock. “I have wanted to see you out of this suit for so damn long, Peter.”

“I’m not really out of it. More like half out.”

Wade responds by grabbing his cock and pumping firmly, making Peter throw his head back and replace his cocky, sarcastic words with wanton, desperate moans. One of his hands tangles in the sheet, his fingers turning white as he grips it hard.

His other hand reaches down for Wade’s throbbing erection, those slender, strong fingers wrapping around it through Wade’s trousers and rubbing in a teasing stroke.

“Take these off,” Peter begs. “I have wanted to see Deadpool out all of that leather and spandex for a while. I’ve never seen you in jeans before, I don’t think, but I really want you out of those, too.”

Wade laughs at the way his baby boy manages to be a sarcastic little asshole even when he’s mostly naked and having his cock rubbed by Wade. He leaps off the bed and quickly strips, watching as Peter’s round brown eyes stare at his body. He’s used to feeling self-conscious, but Peter’s gaze is hungry, and he’s clearly aroused.

His beloved Spider-Man clearly has bad taste in men.

He falls back on the bed, and then they’re touching each other, Wade’s hands around Peter’s cock, Peter’s hands around Wade’s. It feels so good; his fingers are cool and small, his touch gentle and tender.

“I want… I want…” Peter mumbles, and Wade remembers the first time he came here.

“Are you a virgin?” Wade asks.

Peter blushes. “No. But I’m not as experienced as you.”

“We can change that, baby.” Wade feels a strange sense of pride at having Peter place his trust in him. He’s going to be good to Webs. “But we’ll go at your pace. Whatever you want.”

“I just want… I want to make you feel good,” Peter says. “And I want you to make me feel good.”

Wade smiles. “That’s exactly what I hoped you were going to say, baby boy.” He kisses Peter’s skin, tastes his throat and licks up to his earlobe as he increases the tempo of his strokes. Peter’s hips rise to meet his pace, his own hands on Wade’s length becoming unfocused as he begins to lose himself in his pleasure.

“Oh, fuck, Wade,” Peter groans.

Wade could watch this forever. Peter’s face is flushed, a fine sheen of sweat on his skin. His eyes are screwed shut, his hands reaching desperately for Wade. He’s biting his lip, moaning incomprehensibly.

“You are so beautiful,” Wade tells him. “I want to see you cum for me, baby boy.”

Peter moans. “Please,” he whimpers.

Wade increases the pace again, and Peter opens his eyes suddenly, staring at Wade in an unfocused way before crying out and finishing in Wade’s hands.

[He is perfect.]

“Was that okay?” Wade asks, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I love you, Peter.”

“I love… I love you too,” Peter breathes, reaching up to stroke Wade’s face. “Can I…?”

Wade isn’t sure what he’s offering, but that’s quickly rectified when Peter moves with sudden speed, pinning him to the mattress. He’s yet to really experience the full extent of Peter’s strength, but he’s fairly sure he’d struggle to get out from this, not that he’d ever, ever want to. Peter grins in a playful way, then moves down and takes Wade’s cock in his mouth. Wade gasps, lost for a moment in the sensation of his hot, wet mouth. Peter swallows around him, bobbing up and down enthusiastically.

“Holy  _ shit,  _ baby,” Wade moans.

He rolls his hips up, his body reacting automatically to Peter’s touch. Wade reaches down to slip his fingers into the silky mass of Peter’s hair, clinging on to him. Peter runs his tongue down Wade’s shaft, then swallows him down again, and Wade feels himself getting very close.

“I feel it’s only polite to warn you-” he begins.

Peter makes eye contact with him, those brown eyes absolutely sinful.

[Shit.]

Wade finishes in Peter’s mouth, crying out desperately. Peter swallows it down as Wade bucks beneath him, his whole body overcome with pleasure.

When the haze clears a bit, Wade feels Peter’s fingers stroking his forehead gently. His lips are kissing Wade’s eyelids.

“Hey,” Wade says, looking at him.

Fuck, Peter Parker is the most perfect creature in the world, isn’t he? His hair is tangled, his cheeks glowing. He’s smiling shyly down at Wade.

“Was that okay?” he asks.

Wade smiles. He strokes the skin by Peter’s ear softly. “I’m so glad I know you, Peter Parker. That was amazing.”

Peter grins. “What now, Wade?”

Wade pulls him down for a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from foxtrot on the Isn't It Bromantic? Discord server:  
> Omg new prompt: So Peter takes pics of himself as Spidey for The Bugle, right? What if Wade sees those photos, sees the name of who took them and comes to the conclusion that this "Peter Parker" must have pics that were unpublished and probably has some great pics of Spidey's perfect backside. Which is why Peter walks into his apartment to find Deadpool rifling through his things. Peter is terrified that the unstable merc has figured out who he is but then Deadpool is explaining and Peter realizes Deadpool doesnt know who he is, just wants his pics of Spidey. So then the man is offering copious amounts of money for all of his pics of spidey and well, Peter is a broke college student so... 
> 
> I have no idea how but after a significant period of time supplying Wade with pics of himself as Spidey (and trying - unsuccessfully - not to think about what he does with those photos) while dodging Wade's constant flirtation with him as Peter Parker, Deadpool eventually finds out who he is and they get together. Cue happy spideypool ending


End file.
